Lyrics

All these trichomes it got me high boy Leave his shirt red Now he dead boy Should've came correct Cause you don't get second chances I'm in the strip club Spending money on private dances Drop ya coordinates I'm bout to slide boy Can't nan nigga Knock me off my high horse 3.5 of za Roll it in a hemp wrap & I'm here to stay Nigga you just a temp trapper Nigga you a fake rapper Keep talking like a hoe & I'ma bitch slap you Thorough bread, organic, authentic & if a nigga gone do it Put his all in it If you talking money then I'm all ears Born in 96 it's been some hard years How you say you solid You ain't got no backbone Use a flip phone for a trap phone Only believe in myself I gave you help when you needed my help Cause nowadays Feel like you don't appreciate it Fuck love Nowadays we segregated All these trichomes it got me high boy Leave his shirt red Now he dead boy Should've came correct Cause you don't get second chances I'm in the strip club Spending money on private dances Drop ya coordinates I'm bout to slide boy Can't nan nigga Knock me off my high horse 3.5 of za Roll it in a hemp wrap & I'm here to stay Nigga you just a temp trapper I'm on the road I gotta go Every month I change the number to my phone Smell like Creed cologne Get them packs & get em gone Non believer Underachiever Hear no, see no, speak no evil Do what I do to feed my people You just a junkie facing needles I don't put trust in many people Can't let down certain people When you was hungry didn't I feed you But you forgot that I got needs too All these trichomes it got me high boy Leave his shirt red Now he dead boy Should've came correct Cause you don't get second chances I'm in the strip club Spending money on private dances Drop ya coordinates I'm bout to slide boy Can't nan nigga Knock me off my high horse 3.5 of za Roll it in a hemp wrap & I'm here to stay Nigga you just a temp trapper
Writer(s): Ray'quan Harding Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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